


Something More

by bigboobedcanuck



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Stiles, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, References to Abuse, Revenge, The Alpha Pack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-01
Updated: 2013-04-01
Packaged: 2017-12-07 05:28:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/744807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bigboobedcanuck/pseuds/bigboobedcanuck
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In this sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/517527/chapters/913768">Nothing Less</a>, Stiles and Derek navigate the choppy waters of their new relationship. They also have to deal with that nasty alpha pack, who aren't going away without a fight. Drama and angst ensues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to the awesome rhiannonhero for the beta and support! This is super angsty, and you might want to punch me in the face halfway through, but remember I'm a sucker for a happy ending. :)

When Scott texts a sad face emoticon, Stiles sighs and replies that he’ll be over soon. He knows he shouldn’t try to avoid his best friend — and in his defense Scott hasn’t even been home twenty-four hours — but school starts again in the morning and yeah, this isn’t a conversation they should have between chemistry and econ. 

He can smell the cookies before Mrs. McCall even opens the front door. It’s homey and familiar, and makes him yearn for the days when the most serious thing he had to tell Scott was that his new bike got stolen when Stiles borrowed it and forgot to lock it up. 

Scott bounds down the stairs, grinning. “Hey!” He’s about to hug Stiles, but gets distracted by the plate of cookies his mom brings out. 

Stiles takes two, even though the thought of eating makes his stomach churn, and Scott leads him upstairs, munching happily. But once he closes the bedroom door, Scott looks at Stiles for a beat and then frowns. 

“Hey, what’s wrong? You’re all…” He waves his hand around. “Worked up. Your heart’s pounding.”

“Um, yeah. There’s something I have to tell you.” The cookies crumble in Stiles’s hand as he tries to summon the words he’s rehearsed. “So there’s that alpha pack in town and—”

“Why do you smell like…” Scott’s nose wrinkles. “Derek?”

“Oh, right. Make that two things I have to tell you. Why don’t you…” He waves at the bed, and Scott sits down, brow furrowed.

After a minute of babbling the story out using a lot of hand gestures, Stiles stops and takes a breath. It was pretty much one big run-on sentence starting with the attack and ending with the fact that he’s kinda dating Derek, but he did it. He said it all out loud. 

Scott sits perfectly still, gripping his thighs. “I…” He takes a deep breath. “You’re sure you’re okay?” 

Stiles continues pacing back and forth across the room, but his body unclenches because Scott is staring at him with so much concern. “Yeah. Getting there. It was…” he swallows hard. “It was scary.”

“And they were going to…” Scott’s jaw clenches. 

Stiles nods, shoulders tensing up. “But they didn’t. I’m fine.”

Jumping to his feet, Scott joins in the pacing. “But they hurt you. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for me. You wouldn’t be involved in any of this.” 

“Yeah, well, I am. And you’re my best friend, so I’m glad I am, okay? I mean I’m not glad that they were going to…” He swallows hard and forces the word out. “Rape me.” 

Eyes flashing, Scott growls. “I’m going to kill them, Stiles.” 

“No, you’re not. I mean, you might in the end, but don’t go doing something stupid. They’re dangerous and we have to be smart about this. Because it really won’t help me if you go off and get hurt.” 

Scott’s fangs retract, his shoulders sagging. “Yeah. Okay.” He exhales and rubs a hand through his hair. “Stiles, I probably don’t say it enough, but…you’re an amazing friend. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Well, I think you’re forgetting that one time in fifth grade when I—”

“I’m not forgetting anything.” Scott grasps Stiles’s shoulders, his expression serious. “You’re the best friend anyone could ever have. I don’t know what I’d do without you, and I’m not going to let you get hurt ever again.” He yanks Stiles into a hug. 

Stiles feels nice and warm, and he smiles as he pats Scott’s back. “Thanks. But you know, I’m probably going to get hurt, like, tomorrow. You and Derek can only do so much.” 

Brow furrowing, Scott steps back. He opens his mouth, and then closes it again. He tries a couple more times before the words come out. “So, Derek. You and Derek…I mean…you really… _really_? Derek? You and _Derek_?”

Stiles has to laugh, because he can hardly believe it himself. “I know, it’s kinda crazy. But I’ve been feeling these things for a while.”

“About Derek?” Scott appears completely befuddled. “You never said.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t exactly admitting it to myself even. And you know, there’s that whole gay thing. Which I think I am. Gay, I mean. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay. There’s been a lot going on.”

“Always the master of the understatement.” 

Scott smiles softly. “I always kind of thought…maybe? But you never said and there was the whole Lydia obsession. I just…Stiles, you know Derek can be dangerous. He’s involved in dangerous things.”

“Aren’t we all at this point?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” Scott’s face suddenly brightens. “Hey, what about Danny? Danny’s awesome! And he broke up with his boyfriend, remember? You guys should totally go on a date.” 

Chuckling, Stiles shakes his head. “Danny’s great, but I’m already with Derek.”

Scott frowns. “I didn’t even know he was into guys. I didn’t think he was into anyone, actually. Stiles, are you sure? I mean, you’ve never liked him.” 

“That’s not true! Of course I like him.”

“What about trying to get him put in jail and wanting me to kill him that one time?” 

Stiles waves his hand. “Bygones. I think most of the time I said I hated him because I didn’t want to think about how much I wanted him.” 

“Wanted? As in…” Scott’s eyebrows shoot up. “So have you? With Derek? Like…” He whispers. “Sex stuff?”

“Yep.” Stiles can’t help but feel a rush of pride. “We’ve sex stuffed. Yesterday.”

“Okay.” Scott nods. “Okay. Was it…good and everything?”

 _Was it ever._ “Definitely.” 

“Good, good.” Scott’s still nodding. “Stiles, this is kind of freaking me out. Not because of the gay part, I swear. Just…thinking about you and Derek…” His face scrunches.

“Oh lord, please stop thinking about it right now. I don’t want to think about you and Allison either.” Oops. “I mean…not anymore.” He sighs. “Sorry.” 

Scott tries to smile. “It’s okay. I know everything will work out. We just need some time. She needs some time. It’ll be fine.” 

“Yes, totally. It totally will.” Probably not, but Stiles hopes it will be. “And we agree to just not think about any of the details of either of our sex lives. Deal?” Stiles extends his hand.

“Deal.” Grinning, Scott yanks him into another hug, and Stiles breathes easier as they settle down on the floor to play a video game.

“Whoa, what’s your dad gonna say? Is Derek, like…your boyfriend now? He’s kind of old.”

“I still have to figure out the best way to broach it with Dad. And…I dunno. I guess so? Yeah.” 

“All right.” Scott’s expression darkens. “For the record, if Derek ever hurts you—” 

“Duly noted. I appreciate the concern.”

“Okay.” Scott tosses him a controller. “You wanna be the ninja again?”

They play like they always have, and Mrs. McCall brings them more cookies with milk to wash them down like she always does, and Stiles feels like maybe everything is going to be okay.

*

When Stiles walks back into his room after brushing his teeth, he’s only half surprised to find Derek there. For once Derek’s not lurking in the corner, and is perched on the end of Stiles’s bed. He looks as hot as ever — possibly even hotter — in his usual leather jacket and jeans ensemble. Stiles wishes he was wearing something sexier than his PJs and a t-shirt, and his pulse races already as he locks the door quietly behind him. “Hey. My dad’s home.”

“He’s asleep.” Derek still keeps his voice low.

“Oh. Good to know. Do you…is something wrong?”

Derek shakes his head. “Did you talk to Scott?”

“Yeah. He’s cool with everything. You and me, I mean. He was really mad about the alphas. I guess we should get the team together — well, the pack, I should use the right terminology. Anyway, we’ll get together and figure out how we’re going to handle that. And before you say what I know you’re going to say, you promised that I could help. So I’m helping. The end.”

Breathing deeply through his nose, Derek stares into the corner behind Stiles for so long that Stiles is about to turn around to see if there’s something back there when Derek speaks. 

“Okay.” He stands up and then…keeps on standing there like he’s waiting for something. Finally he mumbles, “I guess I should go.” 

_Oh, right._ Stomach flip-flopping, Stiles closes the distance between them, because he can do this now. He can reach out and _touch_ Derek. He can tangle his fingers in Derek’s hair and pull his head down for a kiss, he can slide their tongues together, his other hand slipping beneath Derek’s henley, skimming over his firm stomach. 

They stumble around, kissing and rubbing against each other, and then Stiles pushes Derek up against the desk. Already breathing hard, Stiles drops to his knees. Because he _can_. Derek’s eyes flash red, and Stiles can’t get enough of that, and he’s grinning as he gets Derek’s cock out, pushing Derek’s underwear and jeans down to his knees. 

He licks around the head and along the pulsing vein under Derek’s hardening shaft. He mutters, knowing they have to stay quiet. “God, I love this. Love the way you taste. You feel so good in my mouth.”

Derek bites back a groan and runs his hand over Stiles’s head, his hips thrusting. Stiles wraps his palm around the base and takes in as much of as he can, Derek’s cock throbbing on his tongue. He pulls back, licking his lips, and Derek’s fingers dig into his scalp. 

Stiles licks Derek’s balls slowly and then looks up beneath his lashes. “Bet you wish my hair was longer. Then you could really hang on and fuck my mouth.”

Derek’s groan is louder this time. “ _Stiles_.” He looks utterly wrecked already, lips parted, cock leaking. 

Stiles wants to soak in the moment, soak in the knowledge that _he did that_. He did that _to Derek Hale_. But he takes pity and begins sucking in earnest now, and Derek pumps his hips just a little bit, not too hard, but he’s filling Stiles’s mouth and it’s _amazing_. Stiles holds on to Derek’s hips, trying to bob his head in time with Derek’s hips, and he must be doing okay at it because Derek is panting and—

 _Whoa_. Derek’s claws are coming out, and Stiles can feel them grazing his scalp Not hurting him, but they’re there. Derek must realize, because he jerks away and pushes Stiles back onto his heels. 

“I’m sorry.” Derek looks at the ground, chest rising and falling. “That’s never…I’m sorry.” His hands are fists.

“Don’t. Don’t hurt yourself.” Stiles reaches for one of Derek’s hands and tugs on his fingers until Derek lets the claws out, leaving drops of blood on his palm. The cuts are already healing, but Stiles kisses them anyway.

“Better than hurting you.” 

“You won’t. I know you won’t. That happened because…I mean, it’s good, right? It’s because you felt good?” They’re both whispering and Stiles wishes they didn’t have to worry about waking his dad.

Derek’s gaze is still on the floor. He nods jerkily. “It’s not just that. It’s because of you. Your scent, your…everything. It makes me…”

“So it’s like…the wolf part likes it. Likes me.” Stiles’s blood rushes in his ears, hot and thick, and he presses the heel of his hand against his aching dick. 

Derek finally meets his gaze. “That doesn’t…why doesn’t it bother you?”

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t. I like it. Is that weird?” Stiles sits up on his knees again and shoves his PJs down so he can jerk himself, shuddering in relief as he strokes his cock.

Derek’s eyes are red, and the hair on his face gets thicker and maybe it’s wrong, but seriously, _it’s so hot_ and Stiles sucks Derek’s cock again, and Derek growls low in his throat. He grips Stiles’s shoulder, careful with his claws, and Stiles stretches his lips, taking in as much as he can, and it’s all slick heat and his whole body is a live wire as he jerks himself, suddenly coming in spurts over his hand. 

When Derek comes, Stiles chokes a little and pulls back, trying to swallow. Derek takes his cock and milks himself, splashing onto Stiles’s face, which Stiles never really got in porn, but now he _totally_ , totally gets. It’s like Derek’s marking him and Stiles _loves_ it. Then Derek pulls him up and they’re kissing, and Stiles leans against him, kissing him back until they both just stand there, breathing hard, arms wrapped around each other. 

After a while, Derek presses his lips to Stiles’s neck. “I should go.”

“Yeah.” But Stiles doesn’t move, and the ridiculous question spills out before he can stop it. “Are you my boyfriend?”

But Derek doesn’t laugh at him. Instead he pulls back just enough and stares at Stiles intently. “Is that what you want?”

“Uh, yeah. Was that not obvious? Should I be more obvious? I’m usually pretty obvious.”

Derek does laugh now, and it’s soft and low and _sweet_ , and Stiles knows they have that list of stuff to deal with tomorrow, but right now he just kisses his boyfriend, and lets himself be happy. 

*

_Running, running, running, but his legs won’t work. Looking for Derek, but he can’t find him, and it’s dark and he’s falling and screaming his throat raw, and then he’s at school, on the lacrosse field and he’s still screaming and—_

Derek’s there, hands gentle, whispering that Stiles is okay and to wake up. Blinking his dark room into focus, Stiles pushes himself up and flops into Derek’s arms where Derek kneels beside the bed. Stiles holds on tight as his pulse slows, and Derek rubs his back, shushing him.

“My dad. I was screaming…”

“You barely made a sound. He’s still sleeping.” Derek rubs his palm over Stiles’s head.

Stiles blinks at the clock. “Have you been lurking in the bushes for like, four hours?”

Derek doesn’t answer right away, can’t meet Stiles’s eyes. “Didn’t feel like going back to the warehouse. Sorry.”

“We really have to find you a better place to live.” Stiles pulls back. “Like, an actual house. Apartment even. Not that I don’t appreciate the nightmare patrol, but...”

Of course Derek focuses on the last part. “The nightmare. Was it…because of before?”

Stiles shifts and tugs Derek up until they’re sitting side by side, leaning against the headboard. “Because of which before? There’s been plenty of nightmare material in the last year.”

Derek won’t look at him, and Stiles can feel the tension in Derek’s body where it presses into his side. “When I…changed. If it made you think of them—”

“Wait, what? No. _No_. I told you that didn’t bother me. At all. It’s _you_. The wolf part is part of you. And it likes me, right?”

Derek nods. “It…when you were like that…on your knees. It makes me want to…” He trails off and seems to be holding his breath. 

“Dominate?”

Exhaling in a rush, Derek nods again. “But I’d never hurt you. Never.”

“I know.” Stiles takes Derek’s hand, threading their fingers together. It’s nice, this hand-holding business. “It was just a nightmare. My brain processing shit. What happened with the alphas is still…I’m dealing. It wasn’t because you scared me. I told you I liked it, so believe me, okay?”

“Okay.” He seems to have something else to say, so Stiles waits. “We’ve been going pretty fast, and we can slow down. We should slow down. After what happened with them…”

“No. What they did has nothing to do with us. With what we do together. Fuck them.” Stiles is thinking about it, the whole domination thing, and his dick stirs. “I don’t want to slow down. I want to do everything with you. Don’t you?”

Derek tears his gaze away from Stiles’s mouth. “Yes, but—”

“I want to touch you all over and kiss you all over and I want you to fuck me on my hands and knees and—”

With a groan, Derek rolls to his feet and is at the window in one graceful movement. “Go back to sleep, or we’re going to wake up your father.”

“I want to go to the cabin this weekend.” 

Derek licks his lips. “Okay.” Then his face twitches, like he’s trying not to smile. 

“You can be happy. You’re allowed.”

Derek blinks. “I know.” 

“It’s like you fight against it on principle sometimes.” Stiles gets up far less gracefully than Derek did and kisses him softly. “Now go get some sleep. I’m fine.” 

From his window, Stiles watches Derek disappear into the night. He decides Operation Get Derek a Home goes into full effect first thing in the morning.

*

“What?” Stiles glares at Jackson, who is watching him take his seat at the table with a smile — an _evil_ smile. Stiles picks up his milk and shakes the carton.

Jackson blinks innocently. “Have a good vacation?” 

“Uh, yeah. You guys have fun on the slopes?”

Lydia is watching Jackson warily. “We did.” She smiles at Stiles. “What did you do?”

“Aside from Derek.” Jackson adds. 

To his eternal credit, Stiles manages not to spit milk all over his tray. He coughs, and Isaac thumps his back too hard while Stiles fixes Scott with a death glare. “Seriously? You told _him_?”

“I didn’t say a word! I didn’t!” Scott sputters. 

“Please. Like I need McCall to tell me anything.” Jackson leans in from the end of the table. “I can smell him all over you from here.” 

Isaac clears his throat. “I can, too.” He glares at Jackson. “I wasn’t going to say anything, though. But…yeah. He’s all over you. Scott didn’t tell us. Honest.” 

Scott stares at Stiles with those puppy dog eyes. “You really thought I’d just tell everyone?” 

Well, fuck. Stiles sighs and the guilt takes the edge off his appetite. “No. I know you wouldn’t. Sorry, man. I just…” Stiles motions at Jackson, munching away on his tater tots. “He makes me crazy. I wasn’t thinking straight.”

Jackson grins. “Apparently not.” 

“Jackson!” Lydia gives him what Stiles dubbed “the full Martin” in sixth grade, eyes narrowed so intently it really is a surprise that fiery death lasers don’t shoot out and eviscerate Jackson on the spot. “Would you stop? It’s not cool.” Her expression softens as she turns to Stiles across the table. “Well, congratulations. I think it’s great. Impressive, really, bagging a hottie like that. Not that I’m surprised.”

Despite everything, Stiles can’t help but feel a flush of happiness. “Really? Thanks.” 

Lydia’s about to reply when something catches her attention, her face clouding. Stiles glances over his shoulder to see Allison walking by a few tables away. They all watch her sit with some of the seniors on the other side of the cafeteria, and the awkward silence settles in as they turn back to their lunches. 

Stiles clears his throat. “Has anyone…” He hasn’t seen her since she gave him the books he and Derek needed before Christmas. 

“She said she needs some time,” Lydia answers, words brittle. “Anyway.” She forces a smile. “Back to you and Derek. Is he a good kisser? I bet he’s a good kisser.” 

Before Stiles can shut down this line of questioning (at least until he and Lydia are alone and he doesn’t have to deal with Scott and Isaac looking like they might hurl), Jackson sits up straight. “Oh, shit. I owe Danny twenty bucks. He totally called it.”

“Wait, what?” Stiles thinks of the day in his bedroom with Danny and cousin Miguel. “Seriously? He thought me and Derek…” 

Jackson fixes him with a withering stare. “No. But his gaydar picked up on you in junior high. I really should learn not to question it again.” He opens his wallet and pulls out a twenty dollar bill. Danny’s sitting with some of the other guys from the team a few tables over, and Jackson pushes his chair back.

“Wait! You can’t…you’re just going to tell him?” Stiles’s pulse races. He shouldn’t care if people know. Right?

“Not about you and Derek, moron. I’d really rather not have our alpha tossed in jail for screwing the sheriff’s underage son.” He shrugs, an eyebrow rising. “And I guess if you care about people knowing you dig dudes, I don’t have to tell him. Saves me twenty bucks.” 

Stiles can feel everyone’s eyes on him. After what seems like a long time, he blows out a deep breath and calls out. “Hey, Danny! Can you come here for a second? Jackson has something to give you.”

* 

When they walk back to school from the field after practice, Isaac and Stiles fall into step, letting Scott go on ahead. Stiles is going to make Scott talk about Allison later, but he knows Scott needs to mope for a while, and apparently Isaac knows too, as he slows down more, until all the other players are ahead of them. 

“Any word on Boyd and Erica?” Isaac asks.

“No. Sorry. Derek says…” Stiles realizes he isn’t sure if he should be repeating it.

Isaac peers anxiously. “What? What did he say?” 

“Why don’t you ask him? What happened with you guys? I asked him about it and he just got broodier than usual.”

Of course this makes Isaac brood in turn, a furrow appearing between his brows. “I don’t even know. I…I kind of felt like I was in the middle with Derek and Scott. I like them both. But a few days after Erica and Boyd took off, Derek stopped talking to me.”

Stiles sighs, because _of course_ Derek pushed Isaac away. “He probably thinks he’s protecting you.” 

Isaac snorts. “I don’t feel very protected. They finally figured out my dad’s will and the insurance, and I turned eighteen last week so I can live in my house again.”

“Wait, you’re eighteen already? Happy birthday, man.”

Isaac smiles sadly. “Thanks. I got held back the year my brother died.” 

“Oh, right. Understandable. But you must be glad to be home?”

“I guess.” He looks anything but glad. “Better than the group home they stuck me in. At least Jackson’s back now. Not like we’re really _friends_ , but it’s nice knowing he’s across the street.”

“Okay, when Jackson’s presence is comforting in any way, shape or form, you are seriously in trouble.”

At least Isaac chuckles. “Yeah, tell me about it. It’s weird, being back in my house after…everything. My dad’s stuff is everywhere. It’s like…living with a ghost or something.”

“Yeah, that must suck. After everything he did…I guess you have some mixed feelings. Which is probably the understatement of the year. It may only be early January but I’m going to go ahead and call it.” 

“Yeah,” Isaac laughs. “Understatement.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Do you think you could talk to Derek? Maybe he’ll want me back? You could tell him—”

“Yes!” The light bulb goes off so brightly Stiles has to blink. “I know exactly what to tell him. Just leave it to me. I’ve got this covered. Two birds, one stone.”

Isaac grins. “Thanks. And sorry about being a dick before. When all that stuff was happening with Jackson and we were on different sides.”

“Bygones.” Stiles waves his hand. “Besides, Erica was way more of a dick than you.” 

Their smiles fade, and Isaac pauses in front of the doors back into the school. His voice is barely a whisper. “Are they dead?”

“I don’t know. I really hope not.” Stiles isn’t sure what else to do, so he pats Isaac’s shoulder. “So like I said, I have an idea about Derek…” 

At least this is one problem Stiles can actually do something about.


	2. Chapter 2

“You’re moving.” 

Stiles doesn’t glance up from the box he’s packing, because he’s on a roll. Oh yeah, he’s a packing machine. He doesn’t wait for Derek to respond. “Hey, pass me that chain. It’ll fit down the side here. Can’t put all the chains in one box or they’re too heavy. Like books — you have to spread them out. Not that I’ve seen any books.” 

Hand outstretched, Stiles waits until the force of Derek’s stare quite possibly takes the form of matter and physically burns into Stiles’s skin. He meets Derek’s gaze and swallows hard. “Um, or we could put all the chains together. Your call.” 

Derek’s jaw is clenched so hard it’s amazing he can speak. “ _My_ call?” 

“Um, yeah. I guess I should explain.” He waits for Derek to respond, and apparently stony silence is all he’s getting, so Stiles barrels on. “Just hear me out. Isaac’s back in his house and it sucks. He’s lonely and he needs you. And you need him. You need a real place to live.”

Breathing very loudly, Derek fixes his gaze on the storeroom floor. “Isaac is better off without me. He and Scott are friends now. Scott will help him.” 

“Uh, except the part where _you’re_ Isaac’s alpha and he needs _you_. You acted like Isaac was staying away from you over the holidays, said you didn’t know where he was. But that’s not the truth, is it? Why would you do that?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

“Try me.” 

Of course Derek deflects. “You can’t just pack up my things and decide where I’m going to live.”

“But I’m right! It makes all the sense for you to move in with Isaac. Two birds!” He mimes throwing a rock. 

“Things aren’t as easy as you think.” 

Stiles has to laugh, even though it’s really not funny. “Nothing here has been easy, Derek. I’d say it hasn’t been easy since Scott got bit, but that’s not true. Nothing’s been easy since my mom got sick and I watched her die a little bit every day, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing. So don’t…don’t talk to me like I’m some kid. I know I’m younger than you, but I’m not that young. I understand a lot. Life is complicated. I get that, but I’m just trying to make it better.” He exhales, all out of words. 

Derek watches him, eyes gone soft. Finally he nods. 

“When I see something I can do to help someone I care about, I do it. So just tell me why you pushed Isaac away.”

“Why do you think?” Derek’s nostrils flare and then he just looks _sad_. “I’m a failure. Boyd and Erica are dead or they’ve deserted me, and I wouldn’t blame them. Peter hasn’t checked in for too long, and I can’t trust him anyway. Scott refuses to be part of my pack, and Isaac is better off without me.”

“No. He’s not.” Stiles steps over the pile of weapons left to be bubble wrapped. “Okay, so your first foray into alphadom wasn’t without its setbacks. Mistakes were made. But you don’t just give up. What about Jackson? He’s a wolf now, too. He lives right across the street from Isaac, so he’ll be close. And did I mention the part where you’ll get a real room and everything?”

“I don’t need that,” Derek grumps. 

“Yes, you do. And you deserve it. I’m not going to let you sulk alone in this depressing, rundown warehouse. Not when Isaac has a perfectly good house, and seriously, Derek. He’s _alone_. Are you really going to abandon what’s left of your pack?”

Derek contemplates this with furrowed brow for what seems an eternity. “He really wants me to move in?” 

“He’s clearing out his asshole dad’s room as we speak. He would not stop grinning. I mean, frankly it got to the point where it was a little creepy.”

Exhaling loudly, Derek glances around at the storeroom. “Maybe it’s a good idea. But it should be my decision.” 

Stiles rubs the back of his head. “Well, yeah. You’re right. I got a little carried away. I was just excited! Not that I don’t enjoy you lurking in my bushes, but I like the thought of you living in a real house. I want you to have nice things. You _deserve_ nice things, Derek. But I shouldn’t have started packing without talking to you first. It was a dick move.” 

“It really was.” 

“Yes, okay. I admitted it, didn’t I? I was a bad boy. You can spank me later.” Blood rushes to his face as the words hang in the air. 

Derek raises an eyebrow, and a slow smile curves his lips. “Maybe I’ll spank you now.” 

Heart rate speeding up, Stiles backs away and then edges toward the door. “You’ll have to catch me first.”

Okay, so he knows Derek could catch him in an instant, but he still runs, and Derek still chases him all over the dank warehouse until Stiles is out of breath and their laughter echoes in the rafters. When Derek sits in a rusty old chair and hauls Stiles across his lap, Stiles squirms and laughs so hard he has trouble breathing.

Derek swats Stiles’s ass a few times with his palm, not hard at all. “That’ll teach you.”

They’re both laughing, and it feels so nice to be playing together and not fighting, because that sucked. Stiles pushes himself up and straddles Derek, and they both groan as Stiles rolls his hips. “I dunno if I’ve learned my lesson.” 

He dives into Derek’s mouth, tongue first. He’s probably not the most skilled or graceful kisser — okay, _definitely_ not — but Stiles hopes he makes up for it in enthusiasm, and considering Derek’s answering hardness and the little low growls he makes, Stiles thinks he’s doing okay.

He moves to Derek’s neck, sucking and biting and licking. His hands roam under Derek’s t-shirt, and he wants Derek shirtless but it would mean taking Derek’s jacket off and it all seems way too complicated at the moment. He rocks his hips again, and Derek digs his fingers into Stiles’s thighs. 

“I love touching you.” Stiles mumbles against Derek’s neck. “I want to lick you everywhere.” 

Derek groans and shoves his hands between them with jerky movements until he’s able to free their cocks. He rubs them together, wrapping one big hand around them, the other rough on Stiles’s ass, urging him on as Stiles ruts against him. 

Even though he knows it’ll heal before they’re even done, Stiles works on the mark he’s leaving on Derek’s neck. He inhales deeply, words tumbling off his tongue. “I love the way you smell. I just have normal sniffing ability, but you smell amazing.” He nips at the mark and raises his head to meet Derek’s gaze. Derek jacks them steadily, pupils dilated, and Stiles licks his lips. “Do I smell good right now?” 

Derek shoves his tongue in Stiles’s mouth, which Stiles takes as a resounding _yes_. They’re both leaking, and Stiles really wants to be naked, to feel Derek’s skin against him from head to toe, but all he can do is pant and moan as he comes over Derek’s hand. Derek isn’t far behind, and he breathes this little gasp with a hint of howl, and it’s _awesome_.

Stiles is trying to formulate a sentence when Derek lifts his sticky hand and begins sucking their come off his fingers. Stiles garbles out a few consonants and joins in, licking Derek clean. It’s absolutely _filthy_ in the best way, their tongues bumping together over Derek’s fingers until they’re just kissing again, slowly and softly. Stiles’s heart is still pounding, and he’s never felt so close to another human being. Werewolf. Whatever.

Rubbing his hand up and down Stiles’s back, Derek nuzzles, his stubble scraping Stiles’s cheek. “We’d better finish packing.” 

Stiles smiles. “So you’ll do it? I really should have talked to you first. Let’s do that from now on. The talking thing, before the decision-making part.” 

Nodding, Derek kisses him again. And even though they really do need to finish packing, they just kiss and…cuddle, yes, it’s officially cuddling. Stiles feels so warm and safe in Derek’s arms, wrapped around him, and he rests his head on Derek’s shoulder, murmuring. “I want to do everything with you. I don’t wanna wait.” He chuckles. “I guess that makes me Joey Potter or something. Wait, I’m clearly Pacey. Hmm. So that would make you Joey, because you’re definitely not Dawson. Scott is more the Dawson type.” 

Derek holds him tighter, lips feathering across Stiles’s ear. “Am I supposed to know what any of that means?”

Stiles raises his head. “Seriously there was never a TV in sight during your childhood? What did you do after school?”

Derek looks pensive for a moment, and Stiles regrets bringing it up. But then his face relaxes into a wistful smile. “We played in the woods.”

Stiles is going to make some kind of jokey remark, but he just kisses Derek instead. “I bet it was nice.” 

Derek nods, and then his expression reverts back to its naturally brooding state. “Stiles…”

“Yep, right here. On your lap.”

“I think we should wait for a little while. Before…”

Stiles’s fuzzy, post-orgasm haze evaporates. “Wait? Why? You said we could go to the cabin this weekend.” 

“I know, but…” Derek frowns.

“What? You don’t want to?” Despite what they just did together, Stiles can’t help but feel suddenly unsure and insecure. “I thought…you said you wanted me. Like, all the way wanted.”

Derek caresses Stiles’s cheek and rubs his thumb across Stiles’s lips. “I do.”

“Then what?” 

After a long pause, Derek sighs. “You’re so young.”

Stiles huffs, which he knows sounds childish, but _God_. “I’m not that young! I mean, hello. I’m not too young to do everything else, and I didn’t hear either of us complaining. I know what I want.”

Derek opens his mouth and then shuts it, and his gaze slides away, his shoulders hunching. 

Realizing he’s not following their newly established guidelines re: actually talking about stuff, Stiles sighs. “Sorry. Tell me what you’re thinking and I promise I won’t interrupt.” At Derek’s decidedly skeptical eyebrow pop, Stiles adds, “Much.”

After a few moments, Derek talks. “I remember being sixteen. There was so much I didn’t know. Couldn’t even fathom.” He takes a breath. “And I know I’m not her. _Kate_.” He spits her name like it’s acid on his tongue. “I would never hurt you. Not on purpose.”

“I know you wouldn’t. I trust you.”

Derek swallows hard. “It’s been so long since I’ve wanted this. To be close. After everything that happened, I was just…” He presses his lips together, struggling for the words. “Dead. I turned everything off because I had to. And once I did, after a while I didn’t even notice. Didn’t miss it. Because there was just nothing there. I had my sister and she was all I needed. I didn’t want anything more. Didn’t feel it.” 

At the mention of Laura, the guilt twists again in Stiles’s gut, but he just nods for Derek to go on. 

“Then I came back to Beacon Hills. I met you. Everything changed.” Derek leans in and rubs his stubbly cheek against Stiles’s, his hands gripping Stiles’s waist. “I want you so much. To be inside you. Come inside you. Make you mine.” He meets Stiles’s gaze. “Not that…we’ll be safe, don’t worry.”

Stiles is so totally getting hard again, his breath shallow now. “Not worried. Dr. Deaton told me…I read some stuff online once and I asked him about it and he said werewolves were immune to human diseases, and we’re immune to yours, and it’s not like either of us can get pregnant, so.” He kisses Derek. “I want that too. I trust you,” he repeats. God, does he want it. The thought of Derek coming inside him makes Stiles shiver in a good way.

Taking Stiles’s face in his hands, Derek peers intently. “I just want to make sure it’s right. And after…”

“What?” Stiles whispers, because Derek looks so intense and Stiles is almost afraid of what he’s going to say. 

“After what they did. The alphas.” He rushes on before Stiles can interrupt. “I know you’re okay. You’re strong. You’re so strong, and you’re not going to let them take anything away from you. But you can’t pretend it didn’t happen. Rushing into this won’t…erase it.” 

Stiles sits back and bites down the anger and hurt that whips through him. “That’s not what I’m doing. You think I’m not really into this?” He waves a hand at his crotch. “I mean, _hello_. Into it.” 

“I know, I just…” Derek looks away. “I just want you to know you don’t have to prove anything.” He meets Stiles’s gaze again. “Not to me and not to anyone.” 

Breathing deeply, Stiles tries to unclench. He has to inhale and exhale a few more times. “I get what you’re saying. I get it. No rushing. Well, no rushing more than we already have. But being with you, it’s because I want to.” He runs his hands over Derek’s shoulders and back, kissing him deeply. When they part, he goes on. “Because I like it. The way you feel. The way you make me feel. It’s all new, but it’s…really good. Epically good. Monumentally.”

Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’s cheek and holds him close. “For me too.” Then his voice is barely a whisper. “I never thought I’d have this.”

Stiles relaxes into Derek’s arms again, hugging him tightly. “We’re going to have everything.” A thought occurs, and he lifts his head from Derek’s shoulder. “But when we do it, can we go to the cabin? I like it there. If we go next weekend instead, we’ll be waiting a whole extra week.” 

For that he gets a full-fledged smile, one that Stiles imagines reaches all the way to Derek’s hair. Derek nods and nuzzles Stiles’s throat, doing that sniffing wolf thing that is really kind of adorable even though Stiles keeps that to himself. 

His smile fading as he sits back, Derek peers intently. “You really think I can be a good alpha?” 

Blinking at the change of subject, Stiles kisses him soundly. “Yes.” 

Derek nods, as if he’s decided something. “Okay.” 

“Well, I guess those disturbing metal contraptions that look like medieval torture devices won’t pack themselves.” Stiles moves to stand up, but Derek grasps his hips.

“Thank you.”

They kiss again, deeper now, and fuck it, the torture devices can wait.

*

As he unlocks the front door, Stiles realizes he totally missed dinner, and yep, his dad’s sitting in the living room doing that thing where he pretends he’s not waiting. Stiles waves. “Hey.” 

“Hi.” His dad checks his watch like he hasn’t been keeping track of the time to the second. “Where’ve you been?”

Stiles feels like he’s covered in sex, and not only because he and Derek ended up rolling around on the leftover bubble wrap because Stiles bought way too much. At first it was fun and then they were humping each other and Stiles almost came in his pants because hey, he’s still sixteen. He also has the faint tinge of musk on his tongue and Derek’s marks all over his neck under his shirt and it just seems so incredibly _obvious_. “Just hanging out.” He glances at his own watch. “Wow, sorry.”

“It’s okay. You were with Scott?”

Stiles is about to say yes, but there’s something in his dad’s face that makes him think his dad ran into Scott and Mrs. McCall at the grocery store or something. Stiles bends over to unlace his shoes. “Isaac, actually.”

“Isaac?” His dad sounds surprised.

“Yeah, you remember him. Isaac Lahey. Former murder suspect. Also officially cleared.” 

His dad makes a face. “Yes, I know who he is. I didn’t realize you two were hanging out.” 

Stiles shrugs. “Sure. Why not? He got his house back, so I was helping him clean up.” It’s kind of close to the truth. In the same ballpark, at least.

“Oh. So you and Isaac…you’re friends?” 

“Yeah. Just friends. Not…more.” Stiles puts his hands in his pockets, shifting from foot to foot. It’s still weird, saying stuff out loud about the whole gay thing.

“Okay.” His dad sighs. “You know you can talk to me about all of this. Right?”

“I know. Thanks.” The guilt is seriously unpleasant as it churns his empty stomach.

“How’s Derek?” His father is clearly going for casual, but misses the mark by a mile.

“Good. Fine. Actually he’s moving in with Isaac. Just, FYI.” 

His dad sits up straighter. “In what capacity?”

“Like a roommate. A friend. Not anything inappropriate. Isaac’s lonely and Derek’s house is, like, a scary, depressing tomb.” The description aptly fits both the Hale house and the warehouse lair.

His dad takes this in. “Well, I guess that’s a good idea, then. What’s Derek doing for work these days?”

“Uh…I think his family left him a lot of money. So he doesn’t need to work.” 

“So he just…hangs out with teenagers.” 

“No! He does lots of stuff. Hey, I’m gonna make popcorn. Anything good on?” 

Thankfully, his dad lets him change the subject. “ _Speed_ is on TBS in five minutes.” 

“Score! Popcorn coming right up. I’m just gonna get into my PJs.” _And clean off the stench of sex._

“Lots of butter on mine!” his dad shouts when Stiles comes back down and hurries to the kitchen. 

“Ha ha! And I’m using the air popper Santa brought for you. Shut up, it’s delicious.”

As Stiles waits for the popping to commence, he tries to push away the nagging guilt. Leaving aside the whole bigger truth — the existence of werewolves and other supernatural beasts and how many people in Stiles’s life fall into his category — there’s just no way he can tell his dad that he and Derek are sharing orgasms.

He’s tried any number of scenarios in his head, and they all end with his dad flipping his lid and arresting Derek. As awesome as his dad is about so many things, Stiles just can’t imagine him being okay with this. And Stiles isn’t going to give this up. No way. 

Blinking, Stiles turns off the popper, which is just shooting out hot air at this point. He grabs the salt and a couple of diet sodas (which he has begun drinking in solidarity) and tucks the bowl into the curve of his arm. Onscreen, a group of unsuspecting people in an elevator are about to get the ride of their lives.

“They’re about to get the ride of their lives,” his dad says with a grin as he pops the top of his soda. 

Stiles shoves a handful of popcorn into his mouth and settles down into the worn cushions. “Are they ever.” 

*

“There’s just one more thing.” 

Gathered in the living room, they all look up from the remnants of their pizza to where Isaac stands by the door to the basement. Stiles licks a bit of sauce from the corner of his mouth. “What’s up?” 

Isaac shifts from foot to foot. “Derek, can you help me with something?”

Derek nods and glances at Stiles as he gets up. When he and Isaac have disappeared downstairs, all eyes turn to Stiles, who shrugs. “I dunno.”

Lydia glances at Jackson, who snorts. “Don’t look at me. This house should have been demolished. It brings down the property values.” 

Scott shoots Jackson a glare. “Would you stop with that? We all know you don’t even really mean it deep down.” 

“ _Way_ deep down,” Stiles mutters. 

Any further discussion is interrupted by Isaac and Derek’s reappearance, this time hauling up a chest freezer. _Oh._ They all know why, and when Jackson opens his mouth, Scott’s eyes glow as he shakes his head. They follow Isaac, Derek and the freezer outside, where Isaac puts it in the middle of the overgrown backyard. When he pulls out a bottle of lighter fluid from his pocket, Derek visibly tenses. 

Everyone seems to realize, _Oh right, FIRE BAD_ at the same time, and Stiles steps closer to Derek as Isaac blanches. Derek had lit a fire at the cabin seemingly without a second thought, but Stiles figures that’s because it was small and controlled and he’d done it a hundred times growing up. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Isaac stutters. 

Even Jackson keeps his mouth shut, and Scott clears his throat. “We could get an axe? Chop it up or something?” 

“No.” Derek’s voice is too loud, and he takes a breath. “It’s fine.” He glances around, as if gauging the distance to the house or anything flammable. “Just be careful.” 

Isaac nods, and opens the lid of the freezer. He’s frozen for a long moment as he stares into it, and Stiles swallows hard, thinking of how awful it must have been and how he’s not very sorry at all that Mr. Lahey is dead. Isaac takes a deep breath and sprays the fluid all over the freezer. Then he steps back and pulls out a pack of matches. 

As the freezer burns, they all watch solemnly. Isaac’s eyes glisten, and Lydia goes to him and silently takes his hand. Derek takes the other one, and reaches out to Stiles. They all join hands around the freezer, even Jackson, the firelight flickering on their faces in a way that’s really sad and beautiful and makes Stiles’s heart clench. 

It’s getting late by the time the freezer is a smouldering pile of metal, and Lydia leads them back inside, chattering about a housewarming present that Isaac and Derek desperately need and which turns out to be pine-scented potpourri in a glass bowl. Isaac puts it on the coffee table with a goofy smile on his face. 

Then it’s time to go, and as they gather their stuff, suddenly everyone is shooting little glances at Stiles and Derek — even Scott, although he has the good grace to blush. And sure, Stiles and Derek haven’t been making with the PDA, because Stiles knows better than anyone how annoying it can be, and okay, maybe it’s a bit awkward because he’s never had a girlfriend or boyfriend before, and he’s still getting used to having someone want to touch him at all, let alone doing it in front of people.

But he doesn’t want it to be awkward, and Derek _is_ his boyfriend, so fuck it. “Okay, bye!” He lunges at Derek and kisses him, mostly missing Derek’s mouth, but good enough. Then he escapes to the Jeep, ignoring Jackson’s laughter in his wake. Scott is right on Stiles’s heels, and they’re off. 

After one minute and nine seconds of uncomfortable silence, Scott says, “I’m really glad you’re happy. You deserve it.” 

“Even if it’s weird that I’m happy with Derek?” 

Scott’s lips twitch. “Yeah. Besides it’s not that weird.”

“It totally is. I mean, _me_ and _Derek Hale_? It is a hundred percent weird. And awesome, so it balances out.”

Scott smiles. “Kind of sums up our lives the last year.”

“Yeah. Kinda does. Let’s work on the awesome part of the equation. Deal?”

“Deal.” 

They bump fists, and Stiles smiles the rest of the way home.

*

As Isaac stands in front of the frozen food section and picks out a Hungry Man dinner, Stiles sighs. “Dude, you want to eat something healthy, right? That’s going to make you feel just as crappy as all the takeout.” 

Isaac frowns. “But it says there are nutrients and vitamins.” 

“Yeah, along with a shit-ton of saturated fat and preservatives.” Stiles plucks the box from Isaac’s hand and puts it back in the freezer. “Now, there are some frozen dinners that aren’t too bad. I’ll show you.” 

It was readily apparent from entering the grocery store that Isaac had possibly never set foot inside one before. He’d asked Stiles to come shopping after school, and Stiles said yes because he knew all too well how at first, takeout every night seems great — but then you just start to feel gross. 

Stiles’s dad hadn’t seemed to mind as much, but not long after his mom died, Stiles had insisted on a weekly grocery shopping trip. With his dad’s heart issues, Stiles knows more about healthy eating than most people, so he guides Isaac around the store and introduces him to vegetables and pasta and stuff that’s easy to make and won’t kill you down the road. 

When they get back to the house, Stiles helps unpack the groceries. Crouched down by the open fridge, he fills the crisper. “See, the salad’s already all washed and made for you in the bag. It’s super easy. You just put the dressing on and voila.”

Isaac stands behind him. “Thanks, Stiles. Watch your head.” 

“Oh, and those chicken breasts—” Stiles moves to stand up and pain explodes on the top of his skull. Gasping, he falls to his knees as he makes a strangled sound.

Isaac slams the freezer door. “I’m sorry! I said watch your head! Are you okay?”

Stiles gingerly touches his scalp where he banged into the bottom edge of the freezer door. “Is it bleeding? It feels like it should be bleeding. Ow. _Owww._ ” 

“No blood.” Isaac shifts Stiles away from the fridge and closes the door. “Here.” 

Still on his knees, Stiles glances up, wincing as Isaac presses his hand over Stiles’s head. “Oh, right. Yeah, okay. Thanks.” 

At first he doesn’t feel anything aside from the throbbing, ridiculous pain, but slowly it starts to ebb, bit by bit. Above him, Isaac closes his eyes like he’s concentrating. Stiles feels a little lightheaded, and he takes hold of Isaac’s leg to steady himself. He’s about to say that it’s working when there’s a _whoosh_ of air and a blur of movement out of the corner of his eye. 

Then Isaac is hurtling across the kitchen, and he slams into the opposite wall before crumpling in a heap. Stiles blinks up at Derek, all red eyes and claws, his roar still echoing off the linoleum. As his brain tries to catch up, Stiles scrambles to his feet, looking back and forth between Derek and Isaac. “Jesus Christ, Derek! What the fuck is the matter with you?” He shoves uselessly against Derek’s chest. 

Derek just breathes heavily, expression murderous, and Stiles realizes what’s going on with a burst of his own rage. “Are you kidding me? What, you think I was blowing him on the kitchen floor? _Seriously_? I banged my head and it hurt and he was taking the pain away, you jackass!”

Isaac is curled up into a ball on the floor, hands over his head. He’s actually _whimpering_ and it’s _awful_. Stiles crosses the room and kneels beside him. “It’s okay. You’re okay.” He places his hand on Isaac’s back with the barest pressure. Isaac trembles, and Stiles glares at Derek. 

Derek’s face has changed, all the bristling fury drained away. His expression now is one of such regret and horror that Stiles can’t help but feel a pang for him. Derek shakes his head. 

“I didn’t…I’m sorry.” His voice is hoarse, and he swallows thickly. “I’m sorry.” 

Stiles lets out a long breath and rubs a circle on Isaac’s back. “That’s never going to happen again.” He gives Derek a sharp look. “Right?”

Derek seems frozen to the spot. He nods. When Stiles glares, he adds, “Never.”

Jerking his head towards Isaac’s huddled form, Stiles goes on. “Derek’s sorry. He didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Derek inches towards them until he sits back on his heels on the other side of Isaac. He reaches out hesitantly and runs his fingers through Isaac’s hair. Isaac shudders and then leans into the touch, and Derek pets him gently, and it’s probably a werewolf alpha/beta thing because they both start making these low noises and Isaac uncurls enough to put his head in Derek’s lap. 

“I’m sorry,” Isaac whispers. 

“No. I was wrong.” Derek takes a deep breath, still caressing Isaac’s hair. “I promise it won’t happen again. You’re safe here.”

Isaac nods and Stiles sits back against the wall where plaster has actually cracked off. It’s a while before they move, and when Derek reaches for him, Stiles dodges out of reach, heading for the front door.

Derek follows him outside into the sunset. “Stiles…”

By the Jeep, Stiles shakes his head. “Not right now. Just take care of Isaac. You can’t be like that with him. I know you smash first, ask questions later, but you can’t. It’s not right.” 

Derek stands a few feet away, staring at the ground, shoulders hunched. 

“I mean, you really think I would do that? Fool around with anyone, let alone Isaac?”

“No.” Derek raises his head. “I wasn’t thinking. I just…reacted. I…” He breathes in and out, and just when Stiles thinks he’s not going to say anything else, he goes on. “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re…you’re _mine_. The thought of anyone else touching you, of you touching anyone else…everything went red. I’m sorry.”

Stiles has to admit he feels a dark thrill at Derek’s possessiveness, which is fucked up, but what else is new? It feels good to be wanted. “Well, you’re going to have to rein this shit in. Because what you did is not okay.” Stiles opens the Jeep’s door and climbs in. “Go talk to Isaac and explain again that it wasn’t his fault. You know what his dad did to him. He needs to hear it.”

Derek nods, and Stiles turns the key and reverses down the driveway before his resolve crumbles and he pulls Derek into his arms because he hates seeing Derek like this — all sad eyes and self-hate. When he turns the corner at the end of the street, Derek is at the end of the driveway, watching him go.

*

His dad asks him what’s wrong the second Stiles walks in the door, immediately on edge and suspicious. Stiles spins a story about sucking during practice, which has happened enough times that it’s true enough. His dad relaxes a little, but Stiles still escapes to his room to bury himself in homework as soon as he can. 

Even though he takes out his phone a dozen times, he doesn’t call Derek. But he’s not made of stone. When he’s lying in bed later, not even trying to sleep, and sees the flicker of a shadow outside the window, he sighs and whispers, “Come in.” 

Stiles had left the blinds up, so maybe he was hoping Derek would come. Derek eases the window shut behind him, and Stiles turns onto his side and pulls back the covers. Derek takes off his shoes and leaves his jacket on Stiles’s chair, then climbs in. He’s huge and takes up more than half the bed, and Stiles snuggles close, burrowing into Derek’s chest, breathing him in. 

Derek smoothes his palm over Stiles’s head tenderly. “Does it still hurt?” 

“No, Isaac helped. Is he okay?”

“I think so.” Derek presses a soft kiss to Stiles’s forehead. He’s silent, breathing steadily before he finally speaks again. “It never even occurred to me.” 

“What?”

“Taking the pain away. I didn’t even try after you got hurt. I should have tried.” 

“Shh, it’s all right.” 

“It’s not. I don’t ever want you to be hurt.”

Warmth blooms in Stiles’s chest. He meets Derek’s gaze in the moonlight. “What you said, about me being yours…”

Derek tenses and meets his gaze, waiting.

“I am yours, because it’s my choice to be. And you’re mine. But we need to trust each other.”

After a few long moments of intense staring, Derek ducks his head and kisses Stiles’s neck, his lips moving against the sensitive skin as he murmurs, “I trust you with everything.” 

Heart clenching, Stiles pulls Derek’s face back up and kisses him. “I trust you too. So remember that.” 

Derek’s arms tighten around him, their legs tangled, and Derek’s kind of shmushing Stiles against his chest, but it’s okay because it’s cozy and Stiles can hear Derek’s heart thumping, and after a while his eyes droop. 

He knows Derek should go because Stiles’s dad is home and they don’t need any more drama in their lives, but he can’t bring himself to move or speak, and he drifts away with Derek’s breath warm on his skin. 

*

The thing is, Scott can’t lie to save his life.

Not to anyone, and least of all to Stiles. When Stiles asks him if the rapidly approaching full moon is going to be of concern re: that terrifying alpha pack still lurking around town, Scott stammers and sweats and flushes like Mr. Argent just asked him to describe his favourite sex act. 

So. 

Clearly there’s a plan afoot, and clearly Derek trusting Stiles with everything is bullshit, which makes Stiles nauseous and hurt in a whole new way. He doesn’t say anything to Scott or the others. He texts Derek at lunch about hanging out after school, and is grimly satisfied when Derek replies that he’s stuck patrolling the forest, and he’ll come by later.

Stiles doesn’t even need to follow Scott after school, because somehow he knows that Derek won’t want to do pack business at Isaac’s house. That crappy old depot/warehouse/whatever-the-fuck is still good for something. 

When he pulls up, they’re all still climbing out of their cars, Isaac with Scott, and Lydia with Jackson. Derek leans against the Camaro, clenching his jaw. After slamming the Jeep’s door too hard, Stiles stalks over. It’s already getting dark because January _sucks_ , and Stiles thinks his friends suck too.

“ _Lydia_? Lydia’s invited to your little party and I’m not?” Stiles struggles to keep his voice even. 

“Stiles, go home. We’ll talk about this later.” Derek’s tone brooks no argument. 

“Oh, will we? How nice for me. No, Derek. I’m not going home.” He turns to Lydia. “Well, you must feel really special, being invited to the werewolf prom and everything.”

Lydia frowns. “I didn’t know you weren’t coming.” 

“Lydia’s immune. You aren’t. And this isn’t the fucking prom. This is life and death,” Derek grits out. 

“I’m well aware.”

“We just don’t want you getting hurt again,” Scott blurts, eyes pleading.

It’s Isaac’s turn to frown. “Again?”

Jackson yawns widely. “Can we get on with this? If Stilinski wants to get himself killed taking on the alpha pack, I say let him.”

Derek’s growl raises the hair on Stiles’s arm, and Jackson huffs, but says no more. Stiles addresses Derek. “You said I could help. You _promised_.”

“You can help by staying safe! Go home, Stiles.” With that, Derek stalks off and towards the warehouse. 

Stiles inhales deeply, fighting the urge to scream an obscenity at Derek’s back. “Because I’m just the useless human, right?” The obscenity comes out anyway as Derek disappears inside. “Fuck you, Derek!” 

“Of course you aren’t useless!” Scott reaches for him. “Stiles. He just wants to protect you.” 

“You’re taking his side?” Stiles snatches his arm out of Scott’s reach in the gathering gloom. “Seriously?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt either. Not after…”

“What?” Lydia and Isaac ask in unison. 

“Nothing!” Stiles clenches his hands into fists. “Nothing happened! I’m fine!” 

Scott’s expression softens even farther. “Stiles—”

Then the world is bright, blinding light and heat, and Stiles is flying. He can see orange as he slams onto the ground, his ears ringing and his heartbeat thudding dully. Blinking, he tries to understand what’s happening, and then Scott’s face is above his, and Scott’s saying something Stiles can’t hear because there’s a strange absence of sound aside from the high-pitched buzzing. 

The pavement is gritty under Stiles’s palm as he pushes himself up. Scott is touching him, hands skimming over Stiles’s body, and Stiles blinks past him at the bursts of flame reaching into the winter sky, the plumes of smoke that fill Stiles’s nose, coating his throat already. 

He’s saying Derek’s name, but he can’t hear himself. But Derek will hear him, because he’s a werewolf and he can hear for miles. Of course he can hear Stiles, because he’s all right, and he wasn’t inside the warehouse. He couldn’t have been, because the warehouse is engulfed, just a wall of flames, and there’s no way Derek could be in there. 

Stiles is trying to move, trying to get closer, but Scott’s grip is unrelenting. Lydia lurches into view, and her face crumples for just a moment when she looks at him. Then her expression reshapes and is calmly blank. Stiles feels her hand on his face, and her lips are moving.

As Stiles waits for Derek to run up, because he _will_ , Isaac comes into view, screaming something that sounds like a whisper. He’s being dragged by Jackson, and they’re both wolfed out, but Jackson has the upper hand. Isaac’s crying, and Stiles shouts Derek’s name louder, or at least he thinks he does. 

Isaac throws himself at Stiles and Lydia and Scott, shoulders shaking, and they’re all pressed together. Even Jackson comes close, leaning into their tangle of limbs as the flames lick the darkness, unnaturally bright. 

Stiles’s left eardrum clears, and he finally hears the wrecked scrape of his own voice. “Derek.”

The others hold him tighter as he tries to get up, keeping him on the ground as sirens echo faintly in the night, and Derek burns.


	3. Chapter 3

There’s a moment when Stiles opens his eyes, when he blinks at his uniformed father sitting in the desk chair, and his heart skips a beat, adrenaline spiking his bloodstream as he wonders if Derek was here in his room and if his dad can tell and—

His empty stomach churns as he remembers, and a shuddering breath wracks him. His father gets up and sits beside him on the bed, hand warm on Stiles’s shoulder.

“It’s all right. Everything will be all right.”

Stiles just nods and closes his eyes, because there’s nothing else to be done. He thinks back to yesterday morning, how the world was a different place. How he’d woken and felt happy. A few hours later he’d been angry, and now the guilt tears through him, because he’d yelled at Derek. He tries desperately to remember the last thing words he’d said, and thinks maybe it was “fuck off.” 

Stiles thought he knew regret, knew the shape and size of it, how it fit inside him in dark places. But now regret seeps into every pore, and he breathes it in completely. He turns his face into his pillow, and his father rubs his back. The weight of all the lies Stiles has told make a home with the regret like the old friends they are. 

He has to ask, and clears his dry throat. “Did you find him?” 

His father’s hand stills. “It took all night to get the fire out. Nothing’s been confirmed.” 

Stiles rolls over. The sun is shining brightly behind the blind, and it’s noon at least. He’d only slept after drinking some tea his father had insisted on, which he now realizes was laced with some kind of sedative. Not that he blames his dad. Stiles had flipped back and forth between numb silence and shouted hysteria. 

He focuses on what his father said. “That’s not an answer.” 

“Stiles, you need to rest.” 

“Tell me, Dad. Please.”

Sighing, his dad takes Stiles’s hand. “They found human remains inside the depot. The fire burned very hot — they think it was a gas leak. It could be some time before the coroner can make a positive ID.”

“Because there’s nothing left of him.” A sob chokes Stiles. _Derek’s gone._

“Shh. It’s okay.” 

“It’s not! He’s dead! And I yelled at him!”

His dad’s brow furrows. “What were you all doing there? Why were you arguing?”

Stiles pulls his hand free. He doesn’t turn his back to his father, even though he selfishly wants to. Instead he keeps his gaze down on the faded carpet. “We were just hanging out. It was nothing.”

“ _Nothing_? Stiles, another minute and you could have been inside! This isn’t nothing!” He takes Stiles’s chin and turns it up. “Talk to me. Tell me what you’re mixed up in before someone else gets killed.”

A ringing startles them both, and his father sighs as he pulls his cell from his pocket. “Stilinski.” He listens. “All right. Keep checking and keep me posted.” He ends the call.

“What is it?” Stiles almost doesn’t want to know.

“We can’t find any dental records. Seems like the Hales didn’t visit any dentist within thirty miles.”

Of course they didn’t, because most dentists probably wouldn’t know anything about the care and cleaning of retractable fangs. For a moment, Stiles allows himself the fantasy that if they can’t identify Derek, it means he might not be dead. Then he shakes his head, physically trying to dislodge the magical thinking. He saw Derek go inside the depot himself, and all the fantasies in the world will never change that. 

“It doesn’t matter, Dad. It’s Derek. We all know it.” His voice cracks, and tears spill over his cheeks. “Derek’s dead.” He curls into himself, turning away from his father now, and wishes he could turn back time. 

*

The howls fill the air on the full moon, and somehow Stiles knows it’s the alpha pack, because Scott and the others would never draw attention to themselves. His father’s at work and probably has his hands full with citizens concerned about the wild animal problem in Beacon Hills. 

Stiles feels sick as he hides in his room, huddled on the floor by the closet. He hasn’t changed out of his t-shirt and plaid pajama bottoms in two days, and his dad hasn’t tried to make him go to school. He hasn’t tried to make Stiles talk either, and tonight he left for work after making Stiles promise to call if he needs anything.

A bitter burst of laughter surges up. The only thing Stiles needs is for Derek to not be dead, and it’s the one thing he’ll never have.

There’s movement by the window, a shadow behind the blinds. 

Stiles’s heart speeds up, hammering against his ribcage. He hadn’t wanted to bother his father when the howls started echoing in the night, hadn’t wanted to explain why he was clammy with fear. Stiles wonders too late if the guns are hidden at Isaac’s now, or if they’d melted into useless lumps at the warehouse. Derek had said he was finding a new place for them, but probably didn’t get the chance, and now Stiles is defenseless. 

“Stiles, it’s me.” Scott’s voice comes through the glass.

Exhaling in a rush, Stiles scrambles up to open the blinds and let Scott in. Scott’s wolfed out, eyes yellow and fangs bared for the moon, but he’s in control. “Are you okay?”

Stiles swallows thickly and nods. “Are the alphas…is everyone all right?”

“Yeah, we’re fine. We don’t know what they’re doing.”

“I do.” 

Scott blinks. “You do? What is it?”

“They’re rubbing it in our faces. Bragging about what they did.” 

“But why would they kill Derek like that? Why not all of us? They’re alphas. They wanted Derek for their pack. That’s what Peter said.” 

“Peter?” Stiles’s stomach churns anew. “He’s back?” 

“No. It was something he told Isaac before he took off.”

“Do you think he knows? That Derek’s dead? I’m sure he’ll be back any day now to reclaim his crown. Did Derek dying make him alpha again?” 

“I don’t know. I hope not.”

A fresh round of howls echo, and Scott bristles. “I should go. I’m meeting up with Isaac and Jackson. Jackson needs help getting through this. If the alphas try something I need to be there.” His face creases beneath his heavy brow. “But if they come here…”

“They won’t.”

“How do you know?”

“Derek’s dead.” The words sound hollow to his ears. “Playing with me won’t be any fun if they can’t hurt him with it.” 

Tears glimmer in Scott’s yellow eyes and he blinks them away. “Just call me if you hear them getting too close.” He yanks Stiles into a hug. “I’m so sorry.” 

Stiles blinks back his own tears, nodding. “Thanks. I’ll be fine.” 

Once Scott’s gone, Stiles pulls out the box hidden in the back of his closet and wraps the strands of dried wolfsbane around his hands. Then he settles back into the corner to wait for dawn. 

*

The weirdest thing is how nothing changes.

Sure, the gaping hole in Stiles’s chest, the emptiness Derek has left behind, is a change. But the world keeps turning. Stiles goes back to school. His teachers teach. Coach yells at them in the locker room. Stiles sits at their usual lunch table and chews his sandwich, swallowing down each bite. Scott, Isaac, Lydia and Jackson sit with him, and they talk about homework and new movies and nothing much at all. 

Everyone shoots Stiles worried glances, even Jackson, who offers Stiles his chocolate pudding. Stiles takes it, even though he doesn’t really taste anything anymore. It was the same when his mom died, and he can’t remember how long it took to feel mostly normal again. He knows intellectually that he will, that he’ll grieve Derek and eventually move on, but the thought makes his throat close up, and he drops his spoon. 

Scott rests his hand on Stiles’s shoulder. “Maybe you should go home and get some rest.”

“We have a quiz in history this afternoon.”

“Mrs. Bronwyn will understand.” 

“That my older werewolf boyfriend got blown up? I doubt it. Sorry, _allegedly_ blown up.”

Scott shifts in his seat. “Stiles, we were thinking…we should have a funeral.”

He picks up his spoon again, thrusting it into the pudding. “The police haven’t identified the remains yet. We can’t.” 

“It’s been two weeks. Even if it’s not officially a funeral, I think it would help if we had a memorial or something.”

“Help who?” Stiles stirs the pudding, slopping it over the sides of the cup. 

“All of us,” Lydia says. “And especially you.” 

“I’m fine.” Leaving the pudding, Stiles pushes his chair back. “Maybe I’ll go home after all.”

“No, don’t. It’s okay. Forget I mentioned it.” Scott puts on a smile. “Wanna help me study for that quiz?”

Stiles does, since it doesn’t matter whether he’s home or at school. Everywhere he goes, Derek is still dead. So he stays at school and goes home to find his dad in the kitchen, making dinner. Stiles can’t remember the last time his dad cooked, and he sits at the table, watching. He can’t see what his dad is chopping, and blinks in surprise when he realizes his dad’s scraping vegetables into the frying pan.

“Thought I’d try that stir fry recipe you printed out last month. Smells pretty good, huh?” 

Stiles can’t reply over the thickness in his throat.

His dad glances over his shoulder and hurries to the table, pulling out his chair and talking quietly. “Hey, it’s all right.”

“I’m sorry, Dad. For everything.”

“Okay. Just talk to me. I’m listening.”

Stiles takes a deep breath and blows it out. “Derek was…we…” He runs his hand over his head. “Obviously you know. About me and Derek.”

His father nods. “It’s clear you cared about him very much.” 

Stiles has to take another deep breath. “I did. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you the truth. When we talked about it, nothing had happened, I swear. But then it did happen, and I hated lying to you, but I knew you’d never approve, and I get it. He’s older and—” Stiles stops. Forces his lungs to expand and contract. “He _was_ older.”

“Stiles…” He exhales. “I do wish you’d told me the truth. But it’s over now. I’m not angry with you. So please just talk to me. I know you’re hurting and I want to help.” 

“You can’t help, Dad. No one can. I feel like someone ripped my heart out, and I know that sounds melodramatic, but he’s _gone_ and there’s so much we never did. Things I never said. I was so mad at him, and I can never take it back.”

“Why were you mad? Tell me what happened. Scott said you were all out there to paint graffiti. I know that can’t be true. For starters not one of you had a spray can, and since when are any of you into art? Or petty vandalism? It doesn’t make any sense. You and Scott are hanging out with Jackson now? After he got a restraining order against you?”

“We made up. It’s complicated.”

“So uncomplicate it for me. I know Derek had you mixed up in something.”

Stiles bristles. “It wasn’t Derek’s fault. I know what you must think of him. But he wasn’t bad. He cared about me.”

His father nods. “I’m sure he did.” He reaches out and rubs Stiles’s back gently, his voice low. “When someone’s older, it’s easy to believe them. To listen to them when maybe you shouldn’t. To do things you wouldn’t normally do. Things maybe you don’t want to do.” 

Stiles jerks away and hugs himself. “No. It wasn’t like that with Derek. He never made me do anything I didn’t want to. He was the one who said we should slow down, who didn’t want to rush. He worried about that, about being a bad influence or hurting me. After what Kate did to him, he was so careful with me. He tried to be careful.”

His father’s gaze sharpens. “Kate Argent? Derek knew her before the fire?” 

Stiles hesitates, but doesn’t see the harm in telling this secret. “She seduced him. It was all part of her plan. He was sixteen and she murdered his family.”

The pieces falling into place, his dad shakes his head. “My God.”

“He was so lonely, Dad. He was never with anyone else because he couldn’t trust them. But he trusted me.” Stiles rubs his face. “I know that sounds like a load of crap, like some line he used on me. But it wasn’t. I may be young, but I’m not stupid. Derek wasn’t like that. He was good. He was _good_.” Tears cling to his eyelashes, and he blinks them away. 

“Okay. It’s all right. I believe you.” Smoke wafts from the frying pan, and he hurries over to stir the contents and turn down the heat. When he returns to the table, he smiles awkwardly. “This is why I shouldn’t cook.” 

“Yes, you should!” Stiles reaches out and grips his dad’s arm. “You need to stay healthy. Promise me.” 

“I promise.” He pulls Stiles into a hug. 

Stiles thinks maybe he should tell him everything. Werewolves. The whole nine yards. But he can’t seem to get any more words out. Instead he closes his eyes as dinner is ruined and his dad holds him tight.

*

“Isaac?” Stiles knocks as he opens the front door. 

“In here.” 

Stiles finds Isaac slumped on the couch, idly flicking through the TV channels. “You weren’t at practice.” 

“Didn’t feel like it. Went for a run instead.”

“Right. I get it.” 

Something flickers across Isaac’s face. “I know you do.” He straightens up as if a thought has just occurred. “Are you okay? Did you need me for something?” 

“I’m fine. Just didn’t feel like going home. Wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

“You can stay. I can heat up a lasagna like you showed me.” He bounds to his feet, and then falters. “If you want. You don’t have to.” 

“No, I want to. Lasagna sounds great.” 

Isaac scurries off and comes back a few minutes later with a soda for Stiles. “It’s in the oven, but it’ll take a while.” 

“Sure. Thanks.” Stiles pops the soda tab. 

They settle in and watch _Friends_ , neither of them laughing. As a commercial for thin crust pizza blares, Isaac starts talking. 

“I miss him.” He glances at Stiles. “And I know you do too. More than me, because…I know you miss him.”

“Yeah.” Stiles swallows hard. “I do. And you’re alone again, which sucks. You know you can come over whenever you want. Or I can come here. We can still…we’re friends, right?”

Isaac’s head bobs shyly. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.”

They eat their lasagna and bagged Caesar salad and as the night goes on, Isaac slumps closer and closer. Finally Stiles pushes gently on Isaac’s head to tell him it’s okay, and he rests his head in Stiles’s lap. Stiles runs his fingers through Isaac’s hair, petting him softly.

When Jackson walks in unannounced, he stops and stares for a long moment before squeezing himself onto the couch beside Isaac. He puts his feet up on the coffee table. “Why the hell are you watching this crap?” He grabs the remote and flips to Spike, where people are running over giant beach balls and crashing to the ground. “This is more like it.” 

They watch people fall down, and Stiles even smiles once. 

*

Stiles fantasized all through chemistry about skipping the rest of the day and escaping to the lookout on the preserve. But when he gets there, he finds he’s not alone. There’s a big, flat rock near the edge of the cliff, and he recognizes the gentle curl of Allison’s hair and her perfect posture before she glances over her shoulder. 

She blinks, and her lips quirk into a hesitant smile. “Stiles.” 

Normally he’d have some kind of pithy comeback, but normal is a thing of the past. “Yeah.” 

“I wasn’t sure who to expect, but you were making so much noise I figured you weren’t trying to sneak up on me.” 

Stiles tries to smile. “Stealth isn’t really my best event. Look, I can go. You were here first, so.”

“No, no. Stay.” She shifts over and pats the rock. “Please.”

So Stiles clambers up and sits next to Allison, a foot separating them. He gazes out at the view. “You didn’t feel like geography or physics either?”

“Nope. I’m probably going to get held back again with all the classes I’ve missed lately.” She shrugs. “It just seems so pointless sometimes.” 

“Yeah.” 

“In a hundred years we’ll all be dead. What does it matter if I know the capital of Kazakhstan?”

“Astana.” 

She chuckles. “At least you don’t have to worry about getting held back.” Her expression sobers. “How are you doing? I know it’s only been about a month.” 

Stiles breathes in and out. “I’m fine. I’m…walking and talking. That’ll do for now, I guess. They say time heals all wounds.” 

“That’s what they say.” Allison sighs and picks up a pebble from the surface of the boulder, rolling it between her fingertips. “You guys were together?”

He can only nod. 

“I’m sorry,” she whispers. 

Stiles swallows thickly. “You don’t have to be.”

Her eyes are bright. “Of course I do.” 

“But Derek. Your mom. He…”

“He saved Scott’s life. I don’t blame him.” She takes a shuddering breath. “I _did_. But now I know he was defending himself. Defending Scott.”

“Yeah.” Stiles wants to say more, but Victoria Argent was still Allison’s mother. He’s glad she finally knows the truth, at least. “He never would have otherwise. He really wouldn’t. He was a good person. That’s why they…” He shakes his head. “Full moon is tomorrow. Have you heard anything about the alphas? What they’re planning?”

“No. My dad doesn’t know. He’s been trying to figure it out. I’ve been listening to him and his men, but they’re clueless.”

“Listening? I thought you were, like, kinda the boss?” 

Allison smiles humourlessly. “My dad thinks it was all too soon. He took away my weapons. Doesn’t want me to hunt until I’ve finished school. So now I’m back to skulking around and eavesdropping. I’m playing along for the time being.” 

“If you hear something, will you tell me?”

“Yes. The alphas have been very quiet since the last full moon, right after Derek…” She clears her throat. “Too quiet.”

“I hate just sitting around like this. Waiting. But I don’t know what else to do. Scott doesn’t know. And I’m just a human. I’m powerless against them. They already—” He breaks off and shakes his head. “I can’t fight them.”

“You’re stronger than you think.”

Stiles barks out a laugh. “I’m really not. They proved that.” 

She frowns. “What happened to Derek, there was nothing you could have done.”

“I know. But before that…it doesn’t matter.”

“What did they do?”

“It’s over now. I’m fine.”

Allison just looks at him, waiting. 

He doesn’t want to tell her, but there’s a weird part of him that does, and he finds the words spilling out. “It was during the holidays. They attacked me. They were just doing it to get to Derek, even though we weren’t even together yet. But it was fun for them. Raping me was like, a great Saturday night.” 

She gasps softly, eyes gone wide. “Oh my God.” She reaches for his arm, but stops, her hand hovering in the air. “They…”

“No, Derek stopped them in time. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. I shouldn’t have gone out into the woods by myself. Pretty stupid, huh?” 

“Well, what were you wearing? You might have totally been asking for it.” 

It’s so unexpected, and Stiles laughs, and it’s nice. “Okay, I see your point. It wasn’t my fault.” 

She squeezes his arm before her hand falls away. “It really wasn’t. And you’re not powerless.” 

“Feels that way. There’s nothing I can do. After what they did to me, to Derek, I want to make them pay. But I don’t know how. I hate them more than I thought I could hate anything. You know what I mean?”

She nods.

“It’s like, I was numb at first, going through the motions, and now it’s getting harder. I’m starting to feel so angry.” 

They’re both quiet for a minute, watching a hawk circle over the canyon. 

When Allison speaks, her voice is thick. “When she died, I used all that anger to fight. I shut down everything else. But now everything else is all I can think about. It was so much easier to hate Derek and hate werewolves. Because I didn’t want to hate her.” 

Stiles puts his hand on her shoulder, and she lets him. He has no idea what to say. “She was your mom.” 

“Exactly!” Allison’s eyes glisten. “She was my mom, Stiles. And she left me! She _killed herself_ and she didn’t even say goodbye.” Tears slip down her flushed cheeks. “That day, I was busy with something stupid. She wanted to talk to me, and I blew her off. Why didn’t she make me talk? How could she leave like that? She was my mom, and I wasn’t enough to make her stay!”

Stiles moves closer and wraps his arm around Allison’s shaking shoulders. He lets her cry because he doesn’t know what else to do. 

She goes on. “How could she try to kill Scott? She knew how much I loved him. She knew, and she didn’t care. She would have murdered him and never given it a second thought. How could she do that?”

“I don’t know.” 

“How can I still love her?” 

“No matter what she was, she was your mom. Of course you love her. That’s not bad. Or wrong.” 

Swiping at her eyes, Allison blinks at him. “I know you understand. Even though your mom wasn’t like mine. Does it get easier?”

With the hole in his chest from Derek’s loss, Stiles’s first thought is _no_. But he nods. “It does.” His voice breaks. “Eventually.” 

“Oh, Stiles.” Allison snakes her arm around his waist and squeezes. “I’m sorry. Here I am going on about me and you just lost Derek.” 

“We’re allowed to both be sad.” 

“You’re such a good friend.” Fresh tears spring to her eyes. “I’m so ashamed of how I acted.”

“We don’t blame you. You don’t have to be alone.”

She rests her head on Stiles’s shoulder and they cling to each other, watching the sun peek in and out from behind the drifting clouds. 

*

It’s after midnight, but Stiles isn’t sleeping. His father is working the night shift, and at dinner Stiles had tried to act like he was okay. His dad hasn’t brought up Derek or what they were all doing at the depot again, but it’s only a matter of time. 

He’s running over different scenarios in his mind, imagining how his father would react to various versions of the truth. The only conclusion he’s come to is that there’s no good way to tell your dad that not only do werewolves exist, but your best friend is one and so was your too-old boyfriend. 

With a sigh, he resolutely closes his eyes. In the past, he’d have jerked off and lulled himself to a happy sleep, but he hasn’t been able to touch himself since Derek died. He tried once, and the guilt was overwhelming. Just thinking about it now, shame prickles his skin. He knows it’s stupid, knows that Derek wouldn’t want him to feel like this, like he shouldn’t feel pleasure again. Like it’s a betrayal.

For a ridiculous, glorious moment when he hears someone outside the window, Stiles’s heart skips a beat, and he smiles. Then he hates himself even more for forgetting for even a split second that it’ll never be Derek. 

As he creeps to the closet to get his wolfsbane, there’s a tap on the windowpane, and a shadow looms behind the blinds. 

“Stiles.” 

Abandoning the wolfsbane, he hurries to the window and yanks up the blinds. Crouched by the sill, Allison stares back at him. She’s dressed in black, her crossbow across her back and something that looks like war paint smeared across her delicate features. 

Her gaze is steady and determined, but missing the glint of crazy he remembers from the last time he saw her go to battle. “Allison?”

“I want to hunt.” 

A dark shiver shoots through him. “Let’s go.” 

*

“How did you find out where they’re staying?”

Allison leads the way through the forest. “One of my dad’s men stumbled across some clues. No one ever comes out to the old quarry. It’s the perfect place.”

“You’re sure this stuff works?” Stiles pokes at the drying gunk on his face. It’s grey with streaks of green, and if they had cucumber slices for their eyes they could be having a spa day the way his mom and her friend Shirley used to. Of course Shirley and his mom never crept through the woods in the middle of the night armed to the teeth. 

“No, but it was in the bestiary. If we did the spell right, it’ll mask our heartbeats and scent.”

The gunk is all over Stiles’s chest beneath his black hoodie, and he certainly hopes it’ll work because his heart is thumping. “What if it doesn’t?”

“We have to believe it will.”

“Right. I believe. Totally going to work.” Stiles crouches to follow her through a dense thicket of bushes. The metal of the gun tucked into his waistband is cool on his skin, and he’s comforted by the weight of it. He has extra wolfsbane bullets in every pocket, and he doesn’t know how Allison snuck into her family’s weapons cache, but he’s glad she did. 

A voice reminds him that this is an epically stupid idea, going after the alpha pack without any werewolves in tow. Allison may be a hunter, but they’re just humans, and even if their plan is only to scope out the situation and try to figure out what the pack is up to, there’s a good chance said plan will go awry. 

But then they’re getting close to the quarry ledge, and the only thing Stiles can think about is keeping absolutely quiet as he and Allison creep forward, weapons out. The wind is calm, and all is still in the night as they approach on their bellies. There’s no sign of any guards atop the quarry, but the alphas are an arrogant bunch. 

As they peek over the ledge, Stiles’s stomach clenches. Below, he can make out the pack, sleeping in little groups, snores echoing off the quarry walls. It’s not the deepest quarry, and if he squints, he can make out the faces he remembers from that night. He tightens his grip on the gun. 

Then Allison’s hand claps over his mouth, which is annoying because Stiles didn’t even make a sound. He shoots her a look, but her eyes are zeroed in on something down below. Stiles follows her gaze to a man standing just outside the firelight. No, not simply standing—chained to a massive slab of bedrock, his arms above his head.

Stiles inhales sharply, nostrils flaring. His heart hammers against his ribs, body electric with rage and sheer, impossible joy.

 _Derek_.


	4. Chapter 4

“Dad. Wake up.” Stiles sits on the side of the bed and gives his father a shake.

Instantly his dad sits up, eyes open. “What is it? Are you all right?”

“Yes, I’m fine. It’s okay.”

He blinks at the curtains, sunlight bright around the edges. “What time is it? Why aren’t you in school?”

“Just listen. I need to tell you something, and it’s going to sound…well, it’s going to sound completely insane. But you have to believe me.”

His father rubs his face. “I’m listening.”

 _Here goes nothing._ “Derek’s not dead. He’s alive, and he’s in trouble. We have to help him.” _Alive, alive, alive._ It’s all Stiles can do to stop from screaming or crying or running through the streets.

With a sigh, his dad squeezes Stiles’s hand. “When I lost your mom, I would have given anything to bring her back.”

Stiles stands and starts pacing. “I know this sounds crazy — and there’s more crazy coming — but it’s the truth. Derek isn’t dead. I saw him last night.” 

There’s a long pause. “Where did you see him?”

“In the quarry. Look, I know this sounds insane. The thing is…” Stiles takes a deep breath and blurts it out. “Derek’s a werewolf. That’s what I’m involved in. What we’re all involved in. It’s not drugs. Werewolves are real. And complicated. It’s been pretty much nonstop drama.”

The pause is not so much a pause this time as a stunned silence while his father stares at him with concern etched on his face.

“I know it’s nuts. You probably think I’m high as a kite right now, but it’s the truth. All those animal attacks? Come on. You know it wasn’t a mountain lion. You know something’s been going on in Beacon Hills for a long time.

“Stiles…werewolves aren’t real.” 

Stiles sighs. He really wishes they could just fast forward this portion of the program. “Get dressed and come down to the living room. There’s something you need to see.” 

His dad throws the covers back and makes for the door. “Whatever’s going on—”

“Dad. Scott, Issac, Lydia, Jackson, Dr. Deaton, Mr. Argent and Allison are down there. So pants would be good.”

With a glare, his dad strides to the closet. 

When Stiles goes downstairs, he can tell the werewolves have filled in the humans on how it’s going so far. 

Scott stands. “He’s known me the longest. I’ll show him.” 

“Show me what?”

When the demonstration is over, they wait. Stiles can hardly breathe, his eyes glued to his father’s face. His dad remains frozen in the entryway to the hall, and Stiles can almost see all the mysteries being solved in his head as reality reshapes itself.

Finally his dad speaks. “Did you hurt those people?”

“No! We’re not all bad.” Scott looks to Dr. Deaton beseechingly.

Deaton waves Stiles’s dad toward his own armchair. “Why don’t we start at the beginning.”

*

“Any more questions?” Dr. Deaton asks.

Everyone looks as exhausted as Stiles feels after his father’s interrogation. Stiles clears his throat. “Dad, I wanted to tell you. I hate lying, and I’m sorry.” Stiles knows his dad’s hurt, even if he’d never show it.

His father nods. “We’ll…we’ll talk about it later. What do these…alphas want with Derek?”

Mr. Argent speaks up. “We’re not certain, but we think it might be a spell. They took him just before the last full moon. We’ve only had hours to research, but there’s a power spell that involves a ritual sacrifice on the full moon. There’s reference to a cycle of preparation. It would make sense why they’ve kept him alive.”

Stiles’s dad smiles sharply. “Sense. That word doesn’t mean what it did this morning.” 

“What we need now is a plan. Sunset is in—” Stiles checks his watch, “—three hours.” He jiggles his leg restlessly, perched on the edge of the couch. “We researched half the night and into the morning, and now we just need to make the plan for getting Derek back.”

“ _We_ aren’t getting Derek back, Stiles. _You_ are staying here.” His father’s tone brooks no argument. 

But Stiles is equally steely. “I’m going. I can fight. Okay, maybe _fight_ is a strong word, but I can shoot. After they—” He stops and exhales, jaw clenched. “I’m not weak. I’m going.” 

His father peers closely. “Those bruises. The wrong place, wrong time. It was these…people?”

Stiles nods. “They were trying to get to Derek. To make him angry. I was just convenient.” He feels the flush creep up his face, all eyes on him. He glances at Allison, and she nods encouragingly as Scott inches closer on the couch, a reassuring presence. His throat is dry, but he gets the words out. “They were going to rape me. Derek stopped them. But that’s what they were going to do. This is the kind of pack we’re dealing with.”

His father is already up on his feet. “What’s the plan?”

Lydia’s eyes gleam dangerously. “I’ve got an idea.” 

As she lays it out, Stiles breathes again. He told them. Everyone knows, and he’s okay. The world didn’t end. 

He feels lightheaded and relieved and desperate and scared, because somehow Derek is _alive_. Stiles saw him with his own eyes. Allison had dragged him away bodily from the edge of the quarry, only convincing him not to rush down there right then and there by promising to go wake up her dad and everyone else so they could help.

Stiles breathes in and out, imagining Derek in his mind. They were too far away to see much, but Derek looked bloody and weary, his body painfully gaunt. Every second he’s still there, chained up by those bastards, Stiles’s anger grows. 

When Lydia finishes laying it out, they scatter to collect the necessary supplies. Mr. Argent goes to rally his hunter troop, and they set the rendezvous time for sunset. When it’s just Stiles and his dad left, they look at each other across the living room.

“I don’t want you to get hurt. Later we’re going to talk. About what happened before. And I want you to see a counsellor. I know you’re strong and that you’re working through it, but this is nonnegotiable.” 

“Okay. But I’m going tonight. I can do this. I’m going to do this.”

His father nods, resigned. “I’ll be there every step of the way.” 

“You always are.” 

“Stiles, this is…” He runs his hand through his hair. “I came up with a hundred different scenarios to explain what was going on in this town. What was going on with you.” He smiles wryly. “Werewolves didn’t even make the list.” 

“I bet you thought vampires. Most people go there first.” Stiles laughs because he thinks he might cry. “Derek’s alive, Dad. I’m afraid to believe this is real.” 

“I know the feeling.” 

Stiles nods, and crosses the distance between them. His dad hugs him as tightly as ever, and Stiles grips him back.

When his father speaks again, his voice is thick. “You’re brave just like your mom.”

Stiles holds on tighter, and wonders how he got so lucky.

* 

Stiles is certain the alphas can hear his heartbeat announcing his arrival like rain on a tin roof. Stiles walks steadily down the road that loops into the quarry, keeping his pace even. He has a gun in his hand and makes no attempt to hide it. But the time he reaches the bottom, the alphas are all gathered, watching him with varying degrees of amusement and contempt. If the grey gunk smeared on everyone else does its job, the alphas will think he’s alone.

It’s difficult to resist the urge to run to Derek. Stiles tries not to look at him where he’s chained to a wall of rock, straining against his restraints and calling Stiles’s name weakly, telling him to go, his voice totally wrecked. It’s a knife in Stiles’s gut.

Stiles stops twenty feet from the alphas, who are gathered in front of Derek. Stiles waits. Sure enough, even an alpha pack has a leader, and a scarred, long-haired man steps forward. Stiles remembers him — can imagine this man’s fetid breath on his face, his rough hands tearing at Stiles’s clothes. 

For a terrible moment, Stiles wants nothing more than to obey his instincts and run, run, run. But he takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. It’s a cool night, but sweat dampens his palms. He clears his throat. “Let him go.”

The leader’s laughter echoes off the quarry’s walls. “Sure thing. Since you asked so politely. I’ve got to say, it takes real balls to come here. I look forward to finishing what we started, little human.”

Derek rattles his chains. “I’ll give you what you want. Leave him alone.” 

“Of course you’ll give us what we want. And your boyfriend came here of his own accord.” The leader leers. “I think maybe he liked it.”

Stiles raises his gun.

The alphas laugh merrily, and the leader smirks. “Don’t tell me — wolfsbane bullets. You’re adorable.” He opens his arms wide. “I’ll tell you what. I’ll give you a free shot.”

Stiles pulls the trigger.

The red paint splatters across the leader’s forehead, and a furrow forms between his brows. Stiles doesn’t even hear the whine of Allison’s first arrow, but sees the paint bomb on the end of it splash across another alpha’s face. At the same time, everything erupts into chaos as the others attack.

The air is filled with shouts and cries and the sound of flesh tearing, bones breaking. But Stiles keeps his eyes on Derek, zeroing in on him with tunnel vision. There’s a snarl behind him as he reaches Derek, and Stiles reaches for his other gun, the one that actually is loaded with wolfsbane bullets. But he sees the blue flash of Jackson’s eyes and steps aside so Jackson can tear Derek’s chains free. 

Rock crumbles and Stiles marvels at Jackson’s strength, which they think is a vestige of his kanima days. An alpha hurtles toward them, and Jackson wrestles her to the ground, holding her still so Stiles can shot her with a paintball. Then Jackson bounds off, and Stiles staggers under Derek’s weight as he urges Derek forward. 

The fact that he’s touching Derek again, that Derek is real beneath his hands, battered and weak, but _real_ , gives Stiles a giddy rush. He grips Derek. “I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

“You shouldn’t have come,” Derek mutters. “Stiles…god.”

“Shut up and walk.” 

But Derek’s too weak, and he stumbles to his knees. Even in his emaciated state, he’s too heavy for Stiles to carry, and Stiles peers into the chaos. Then his father is there, a strong arm slung around Derek’s back. The grey paint is cracked and drying on his face. 

“Come on. Move!”

Between them, they half drag, half carry Derek to the pickup truck Mr. Argent and his hunters careened into the quarry. Once they’re in the back, Stiles blows the whistle around his neck and the others race over to clamber in. It’s crowded, and Stiles hangs on as Mr. Argent guns the engine and begins the climb from the quarry. 

Of course the alphas follow, all of them shifted now into full wolf form, bounding up the road, getting closer every second. The red paint is still visible, matted into the fur on their heads and muzzles as they close the distance, gaining on the truck even as it powers up the road at top speed.

Then, as one, the wolves seem to hang frozen for a moment, suspended mid-leap before crashing to the gravel road. In the light of the full moon, Stiles can see them sprawled across the road, motionless. 

“Jesus.” His dad shakes his head. “It worked. She did it.”

Stiles tightens his arms around Derek, who is sprawled across his lap, eyes shut. Looking otherworldly in the grey paint, Lydia waits with Dr. Deaton at the top of the quarry. Deaton hustles her to the truck. 

“It took a lot out of her.”

Lydia smiles wanly. “I made their hearts explode.” 

Deaton helps her into the passenger seat. “She needs to rest and eat red meat. I’ll stay and supervise the clean-up crew. They can put their energy to good use.” 

Scott, Isaac and Jackson climb out of the truck. They’ve reverted back to their human form, but their hair bristles, and Stiles can sense the roiling tension beneath the surface.

“Thank you,” Stiles says quietly. “All of you.” Derek mumbles something and tries to move, but Stiles shushes him. “Derek says thanks too.” 

Scott and Isaac grin, and even Jackson cracks a smile. 

*

“I’m sorry.”

Stiles bolts up in his computer chair beside his bed. He’s not sure when he dozed off, but it’s past noon. He reaches for Derek’s hand. “Shh. It’s okay. You need to rest.” 

Derek’s voice is hoarse. “And you don’t?” 

Stiles ignores that. “How do you feel?”

“Like I’ll never get the taste of that crap Deaton poured down my throat out of my mouth.” 

“But it’s helping, right?” Stiles brushes Derek’s hair back from his forehead. “You look better already.” The livid bruises on Derek’s bare chest seem to mock Stiles’s words. “You’re less pale. Here.” Stiles lifts Derek’s head and gives him water. 

After he swallows, Derek closes his eyes briefly. “When do I get food?”

“Not yet. I know you must be starving. Since they were literally starving you. The one thing you can’t heal from. You can eat soon, I promise. Deaton’s coming by in a few hours to check on your progress.”

“How’s the patient?” His father asks from the open doorway.

“Hungry. But good,” Stiles answers. “Any news on…”

His father blows out a long breath. “Yes. There’s a match on the dental records from the decoy body in the depot. Boyd.”

Stiles squeezes Derek’s hand. Derek had told them Erica was killed not long after he was taken. The alphas had waited to kill her in front of Derek just for the fun of it, apparently. “They can’t hurt anyone else.”

Derek’s expression is serious, his gaze locked on Stiles’s dad. “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Keep my son safe and out of whatever werewolf drama you might be embroiled in from now on.”

Derek nods solemnly. 

“And remember he’s still underage.” 

“ _Dad._ Can we not do this now?”

“I suppose it can wait considering we had a long night of going to battle and magically killing people by marking them with paint and then, what? Your school friend did a _spell_? I didn’t know they were offering AP black magic this year.” He’s trying to joke, but his shoulders are tense.

“Dad…I know it’s…a lot to take in. We can talk in the morning. Evening. Whatever.” 

“All right. Both of you get some sleep.” He turns to go, but then looks back. “And Derek? Don’t break my son’s heart.” He pulls the door behind him, leaving it ajar.

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Ignore him.” 

“He’s right. I’m sorry for getting you mixed up in this.”

“You didn’t. Your crazy MIA Uncle Peter did when he bit Scott.” 

“I should stay far away. Let you be a normal kid.”

Stomach clenching at the thought, Stiles shakes his head. “Not gonna happen. I just got you back from the dead. So just stop this martyr shit, okay? Because I love you, and we’ll deal with whatever we have to deal with. Together.” 

Derek opens his mouth, and then closes it. “You really…”

Stiles realizes exactly what he said, but feels only calm. Certain. “Of course I do.”

Blinking, Derek takes a shuddering breath. “It’s been a long time since someone’s loved me,” he whispers. 

Stiles feels an ache in his chest, and nudges Derek over in the bed and squeezes in under the covers. They share the pillow, and Stiles kisses Derek lightly. “Love you,” he repeats.

“Me too.”

Part of him wants to sing and shout it from the rooftops: _Derek loves me!_. Instead he traces a scrape on Derek’s cheek with his fingertips. “I wish I had your healing power.” 

Derek looks at him for a long time. Then he smiles softly and snuggles down and tucks his head into the crook of Stiles’s neck. His breath puffs against Stiles’s skin. 

“You do.” 

*

Stiles expects the cabin to be just as it was the last time they were here, but the must is gone, and new furniture fills the space. Stiles blinks. “What? When?”

Derek shrugs. “One day while you were in school.”

“It’s so clean. I…thank you. Not that you did it for me.” 

“I figured if we’re going to come up here from time to time, it should be nice.” He opens the chest and pulls out new blankets. There’s still no couch, but Stiles is totally okay with the blanket nest. 

They’ve got the whole night here alone, so Stiles unpacks the food they brought while Derek starts a fire. It’s raining and getting dark outside, and Stiles thinks it’s kind of perfect.

Once they’ve finished their tasks, they stare at each other across the cabin’s one room. With a deep breath, Stiles crosses to the fireplace. “So.” He’s hoping they don’t have to have another big conversation about this.

Derek peels his shirt over his head, and okay, great. Conversation’s off the table. The firelight dances over Derek’s skin, and Stiles thinks he could just look at Derek all day and be happy. But no, he wants more. God, does he want it. He undresses with choppy movements and lies back on the nest of blankets. Standing over him, Derek hesitates, his hands on his belt. 

Stiles’s heart skips a beat. “What’s wrong?” He knows his body is nothing compared to Derek’s, and he fights the urge to cover himself as Derek’s gaze roves over him. 

Derek’s silent for a long moment. “I can’t believe you’re mine.” 

“Well, you could definitely do better, but yeah, I’m all yours, big guy.” 

Derek kneels on the hearth and cups Stiles’s cheek with his hand. “No. There’s no one better.” He kisses Stiles firmly, and Stiles’s pulse soars.

After Derek shimmies out of the rest of his clothes, he presses Stiles down into the blankets. They kiss until they’re breathless and hard, and Stiles thrusts his hips up. “Please.” 

Derek gazes at him seriously. “Are you sure?”

“ _Yes._ Do you want me to sign a form and have it notarized? Yes, I’m sure I want you to fuck me. _Now._ No, we don’t need a condom because you’re a werewolf and we have different diseases, and neither of us have diseases anyway, so get inside me already. 

Eyes flashing red, Derek kisses him hard before pulling back just enough to talk. His voice is strained and Stiles knows Derek’s struggling to leash his inner wolf. “How do you want it?” 

Stiles has thought about it every which way there is, and thinks he might come just from talking about it with Derek pressing against him, skin getting slick with heat. “I want it all the ways. But for the first time I want to see your face.” 

Derek kisses him again before making his way down Stiles’s body, nipping and sucking until Stiles’s legs are splayed out and Derek’s licking his ass. As Derek opens him up with his fingers and tongue, Stiles closes his eyes, moans and other sounds escaping him. He’d be embarrassed, but Derek seems to love it the louder Stiles is, so Stiles doesn’t hold back. 

Stiles isn’t sure what to do with his hands, and he clutches the blankets, his balls drawing up. “Derek. I’m gonna…” 

Then Derek’s moving back over him, and he lifts Stiles’s legs up over his shoulders, opening him up totally. It’s a really vulnerable position, but after a flash of nervous fear, Stiles smiles and lifts his head to kiss Derek. 

Derek pushes inside him, his cock feeling unbearably thick at first. Their eyes lock together, and Stiles focuses on Derek’s face as the pain ebbs and flows. The burn as Derek stretches him — fills him — becomes laced with bursts of pleasure. 

“You feel so good. Better than I ever imagined. Jesus, Stiles,” Derek groans as he begins to thrust.

“Did you imagine it a lot?” Stiles blinks as a bead of sweat drips into his eye. It still hurts, but he doesn’t care because Derek is actually inside him and it’s amazing and good and he’s going to come so hard.

Derek can only nod as he thrusts, going deeper and deeper. 

“I thought about it too. Me on all fours. Bent over a table. Up against a wall. Like this, spread open for you.”

Derek’s tempo increases, his breath coming in short gasps. He snakes a hand between them and starts jerking Stiles’s dick. “Fuck, Stiles.”

“In my bed, on one of the benches in chem lab, in the pool—”

Derek groans and kisses Stiles messily, all tongues and spit.

“Then when you were gone…” The burn of pain in his ass has ignited into pleasure that pulses through Stiles’s body. He’s close to the edge again, and he digs his nails into Derek’s arms. “I never thought I’d have this. Never thought I’d feel you inside me, filling me up—”

With a strangled gasp, Derek comes, his eyes red and fangs extending as his body jerks. He turns his head, but Stiles grabs his chin. “Don’t hide.” 

Their eyes locked, Derek thrusts through it, stroking Stiles faster and then finding just the right spot inside. Stiles can only moan, head tipped back, mouth open as he splashes their chests. It’s the most intense orgasm he’s ever had, which makes sense since he has Derek’s cock in his ass, and the thought sends another wave of bliss through him. 

They kiss softly as they come down, both shuddering with aftershocks. Derek gently lowers Stiles’s legs and slowly licks his chest clean. Derek’s come drips between Stiles’s legs, and Derek rubs it between his fingers and caresses Stiles’s hole.

“Don’t ever stop fucking me.” 

Derek laughs, and it’s a glorious sound. “I won’t.” 

“Good, because you’ve totally ruined me for other men.”

“Same here.”

Stiles blushes, which is stupid, but he can’t help it. “It was okay for you?”

Derek shoots him a look that could only be captioned with the words _bitch, please_. He kisses Stiles again, and then closes his eyes as he presses his hand against Stiles’s tender ass. After a moment, Stiles feels a pleasant warmth, the lingering pain fading away. 

“I’m okay. You don’t have to.” 

Derek opens his eyes. “Of course I do.” He kisses Stiles’s cheek, and then whispers in his ear. “How else am I going to fuck you again this afternoon?” 

When they stop laughing, they get comfortable in each other’s arms. They talk about nothing and everything, and Stiles listens to the steady thump of Derek’s heart beneath his ear.

*

“Dude, come on!” 

Stiles glances up from the barbecue. “Look, if you guys want to eat, you play, and let the Stilinski men grill. Besides, I suck at Frisbee and you’re all werewolves with amazing hand-eye coordination.” 

Beside him, Stiles’s dad chuckles. “Allison’s not a werewolf.” 

Stiles looks over just in time to see Allison snatch the Frisbee out of the air in the corner of Isaac’s backyard and fling it to Derek across the yard. “She’s a hunter. Excellent reflexes.”

His dad chuckles again, and they flip the meat — and veggie burgers — in comfortable silence. Mr. Argent and Scott’s mom bring out enough salads and sides to feed an army, filling the center of the new extra-long picnic table. Lydia glances up from her chaise lounge and goes back to her fashion magazine, her silence an enthusiastic approval of the meal.

Scott, Isaac, Jackson, Derek and Allison tear around the yard as Stiles piles up a plate of burgers and steaks. “Dinner’s ready!”

They all take their places at the table, the late spring sun warm as evening settles in. Derek and Stiles are across from each other near the end of the table, and share a smile as Derek passes the coleslaw. Stiles wonders how long his stomach will flip-flop like this just from _looking_ at Derek. His mind starts whirling, wondering if they can be alone again once the barbecue is over and—

“Coleslaw!” Lydia snaps. 

“Sorry.” Stiles knows he’s blushing, and keeps his gaze from his father’s as he passes the bowl to Lydia, who winks. 

“Looks like I’m just in time for dinner.” 

Everyone’s head swivels to where Peter leans in the open doorway at the rear of the house. 

Peter raises an eyebrow. “Did I miss anything?”

As everyone starts talking at once — Lydia threatening another magic spell, Stiles’s dad wondering if there are any other formerly comatose relatives on the way — Stiles and Derek share another glance. Stiles shrugs. “At least it’ll never be boring.”

A smile tugging at his lips, Derek nudges their knees together under the table and reaches for his hand.

_fin_


End file.
